I'm Feeling Strange
by Mirrorfaced
Summary: Yeah. I don't know. Escape to Africa fic, takes place during the 'Alex on the Spot' scene with the dancing and the music and the people. Two points of view, Alex and Zuba, and stuff. Genfic, no subtext. Oneshot.


A/N: At bottom. Don't own. Don't really want to. It is split into two parts. Heads up.

* * *

"No, Dad, they're just New Yorkers, they're just crude and frightened people."

Coincidentally, the mob of tourists was not the only crude and frightened animals in the jungle. Zuba had just witnessed a bunch of what he considered hunters hanging his son over a fire. His mate was right; he couldn't loose Alacay again, not when he could do something about it this time.

"Stay back!"

Even without his title, Zuba was an adult male lion, a powerful beast that had not even been beaten in combat when he'd been dethroned. Sharp black claws flew out of his paws, teeth bared. He was ready to face this pack of hunters if it would save his son.

The click of a gun froze him, down to the core. He hadn't seen a gun, had only thought it was pointed sticks and knives. There was no time to think, no time to flash back to his last encounter with a firearm. He was going to die. They were both going to die. They were going to die and Makunga was going to remain the Alpha Lion and the waterhole would never be full and everybody was going to die and his wife was never going to see them again because they'd be d-

Why was Alacay standing in front of him? What in the name of the Gods was he doing?

Zuba was not used to feeling out of control. He was an Alpha Lion, he always knew what to do, what was going on, how to fix it. He couldn't even begin to fathom what his son was doing. How would dancing of all things remedy the situation?

And yet, they were responding. The peoples' faces were no longer darkened with anger (or fear?) They almost seemed happy. They pointed and cheered and waved their arms in support.

Zuba would never understand the level of communication his son held with these people, but he realized that this was what Alacay meant when he said 'performance,' and he knew that this was his way of dominating the crowd, of making his mark and controlling the situation.

Alacay was a king, but less traditional than first imagined. Either way, Zuba could respect this peculiar gift. Alacay had never been normal anyways.

* * *

"No, Dad, they're just New Yorkers, they're just crude and frightened people."

Alex knew he hadn't been mistaken when he'd seen the New York shirt. There was no telling if the rest of them were from New York, but if he could convince that one guy of his identity, maybe he and his dad would stand a chance.

Even if he thought of something, Zuba was determined to fight, which was the entirely wrong idea. They couldn't make the people feel threatened by being hostile. Alex froze, and everything ceased to exist. Everything but that gun, his dad, and himself was irrelevant.

He couldn't just sit back and let his dad get shot, so he did the only thing he could.

"What are you doing, son?"

Conveniently, his last resort was what he did best. Hell, it was the only thing he knew how to do, and he told his dad as much.

It only took a few moments for the man to look up from his weapon. He was stunned by Alex's actions, which was about as good as it was going to get. It was an opening, and it was all he needed.

First, he needed more room to work. The lion sprang into the air and pranced, dancing closely to the pointed shafts of wood.

Finally, with adequate space, he could work some of the classics. It was only a matter of time before somebody recognized him.

And there it was. They were going to be okay.

He couldn't talk to people, they seemed afraid when he did. Dancing was his communication. They loved it, and it did something that made them less hostile, happier. Alex liked to make people happy, especially if it involved dance. It was going to work out.

* * *

A/N: Technical Blurb is now, scroll down for commentary on the actual fic/motivation behind it and all that doo dah.

TECHNICAL BLURB:

Yeah. I know I'm not a writer, but that scene really made me happy, so there. I'm sure there are thousands of technical errors, so don't be afraid to smack me and blatantly tell me to fix it. Maybe add in a threat for good measure. I had to refer back to the movie for some dialogue (which I don't own) and I couldn't decide on the spelling on the characters' names (who I don't own) so I just settled on what I saw in the summaries of other fics. Lol. Personally, I think Zuba looks better as Zooba, and Alacay could work as Alacai, but then we'd have a Mai/Mei situation and that's always messy. Just don't correct me because it's not like there's an official listing (which there probably is) let alone any fans hardcore enough to whine about it (which there might be anyways).

I do like Zuba's part better, though. It was originally just a third-person blurb, but Zuba took over, but I had to make a point on Alex's half, which I totally forgot now. So.

FIC STUFF:

I loved that scene. Personally, I watched it over and over like over twenty times I shit you not. The song is delicious and the facial expressions right before the big dance scene. I really only liked the part with the gun to the part where they zoom in on Alex's abdomen, but I wasn't that picky in my obsessive rewinding. Anyways.

I really don't think anybody takes this fandom seriously, so I'm sitting here thinking I could have probably tried a lot harder on this, but you know whatever. I was hit with inspiration, and I spit this out.

I really thought it was nice with the whole this is my attempt at explaining my actions.

I have no excuse.

Seriously. If you review, try to give me something useful. It's not that I don't appreciate the 'great job loved it keep it up' reviews that I sometimes get on my old Eragon fics, but they don't really help me improve, which is what I really want. And I'm not just saying that. I'm less likely to even attempt to write more if all I get is 'loved it write more' because it's like, ohk, but why?

I'm picky, gtfo.


End file.
